


moments

by wakandawinterprincess



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Mostly Fluff, lots of fluff, no continuity here, non related drabbles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-07-24 10:11:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16172981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wakandawinterprincess/pseuds/wakandawinterprincess
Summary: a series of standalone winterprincess oneshots and snippets that wouldn't comprise of an entire fic, but make for fun reading.my way of writing more lmaoo.ch.1 -- quickie.ch.2 -- dance with me.ch. 3 -- a life well lived





	1. quickie

“Shuri, we \-- we should probably stop.” Bucky rasps, low and urgent.

 

“You’re right.” she manages to gasp out between frantic, heated kisses. “We probably should.”

 

_ Probably _ is an understatement, to say least.

 

There’s a big strategy meeting with all of Wakanda’s key political and military leaders in just  _ fifteen minutes _ . Shuri, as Queen of Wakanda, is expected to lead it.

 

So,  _ naturally _ , she’s here instead. In her bed, tangled up in the sheets and making out with none other than the White Wolf, a fact that would probably scandalize at least half of the aforementioned attendees. Oops.

 

She knows better. Really, she does.

 

But the way he’s fixated on her now -- pressing her into the sheets, kissing her so  _ fiercely _ it takes her breath away -- wipes all rational thought from her head.  _ Damn _ him.

 

Shuri curls a leg around his waist, sure he’ll respond to her need. 

 

He groans at the motion and grasps her hips, pulls her  _ fully _ into him. Even through the thickness of her skirt, she can  _ feel _ him against her, and the thought of how much he  _ wants _ her, how much she’d like for him to just  _ take _ her right now, meeting be damned, makes her moan into his shoulder.

 

“As much as I’d love to tell you to fuck the meeting...” he murmurs, and her insides warm in spite of herself because he really needs to fuck  _ her _ , instead, “... your country  _ needs _ you, darling.”

 

Always the reasonable one. With a valid point, at that. 

 

Shuri pouts, nevertheless. 

 

“And  _ I  _ need  _ you _ . So where does that leave us, exactly?”

 

He laughs, deep and low. “You flatter me, your majesty.”

 

“But...” and he leans in close now, just whispering in her ear, “Fifteen minutes simply  _ won’t _ do. Not with what I want to do to you.”

 

She shifts at that.  _ Tease _ .

 

“ _ Besides _ ...” he continues, talking into her neck now and making her giggle at the touch, “I can’t have you attending your meeting all mussed up. People will talk.”

 

“I wouldn’t mind that.” she mutters, and suddenly she’s fixating on just  _ who _ is attending this meeting. Just  _ who _ might talk.

 

Her change in expression doesn’t go unnoticed. Bucky frowns.

 

“Wait a minute.” He pulls away and has the audacity to look vaguely amused, suddenly. “Is this about  _ Khethiwe _ ?”

 

Shuri just grumbles in response, but the message is loud and clear.

“Bucky, forgive me, but I  _ don’t _ enjoy seeing your ex at these meetings. Now that she’s been appointed the operations head of the Hatut Zeraze...”

 

She could go on and on about how damn  _ frustrating _ it is, but Bucky stops her there. He cuts her off with a question, instead.

 

“Shuri. Forget her. You know  _ you _ have me, right? All of me.”

 

He takes her hand in his, then. Drops a kiss on it, and the act is so disarmingly sweet and reverential that her anger dissolves in an instant.

 

“Damn right. You’re  _ mine. _ ” she murmurs.

 

And  _ yes _ , she thinks, as she leans in to kiss him again, he’s hers and she’s his. 

 

For as long as he’ll have her. 

 

With any Bast-given luck, that'll be until the end of time.

 


	2. dance with me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "dance with me"

“Dance with me.”

Bucky is sure he’s misheard the princess. Because, uh, _what_?

“What?” he repeats, out loud this time, because he’s an _idiot_ who doesn’t think anything through, _ever._

 

She looks at him with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. Mostly the latter.

“Seriously. It’s good for your therapy. Doctor’s orders.”

 

He gapes openly now.

“ _You’re_ my doctor.” he sputters back. _Surely_ she’s kidding?

 

“Did I stutter?” she replies. Quick-witted as ever.

 

Rats.

 

“Besides…” she continues, “I have it on good authority that you were something of a talented _dancer_ back in your day.”

Shuri smirks, and Bucky can’t help but notice just how gleefully _wicked_ her grin is. She’s definitely making fun of him, and he suddenly wonders just _how_ many of his memories she’d seen.

Just what kind of _dancing_ she’s referring to, here.

 

Shit.

 

Shuri takes him out of his thoughts with a single, delicate cough. She meets his gaze now, lifts a single eyebrow.

“So. Dancing. Let’s do it. Unless you’d rather sit around and just talk about it?” she continues coolly.

No can do, he thinks. For better or for worse, she’s got a way of making him open up and say too much. And with the way she’d been goading him seconds ago, he really doesn’t want to open up about his _dancing_ to her. Either kind.

 

“I’m not great with words. Not anymore. Much more of a physical person.” he mutters in grudging half-agreement.

The unintended innuendo of it flies over his head until he looks over at Shuri, who just smiles craftily and waggles her eyebrows at him.

 _Bast_. The audacity of this one.

She’ll be the death of him, he knows it.

 

Nevertheless, Bucky tries to climb out of the hole he’s just dug for himself.

“Not like that…ugh,  _damn it_ , Shuri! Let me live, please.”

She smirks at that request, but it’s not lost on him that she’s suddenly looking him up and down  _quite_  appreciatively. Hell, if he didn’t know better, he’d think he was being ogled by the princess herself.

 

But in another half instant, she finishes her look-over and turns back to him.

“I mean, there’s nothing  _wrong_  with that. You aged well for a white guy, old man,” she replies smoothly.

She grins mischievously at her own words, then tosses him a comically-exaggerated wink.

 

He  _has_  to laugh at that. She never misses a chance to flirt or show off, apparently, but damn if it isn’t somehow both endearing and heart-attack inducing.

 

OK. Clearly he needs to use his last resort excuse.

“If he somehow how walks in and sees this — your brother is going to _kill_ me.” he reminds her.

“Not if I do it first,” she replies simply, and  _damn_ , he thinks to himself, she’s definitely right.

 

“Shuri, _no_ …” he tries to protest, half-heartedly, but she’s already all but wriggled into his arms, looking up at him expectantly with those beautiful dark eyes and pretty long lashes of hers.

She gives him her best petulant pout, and he sighs.

What’s another defeat to a man who’s whipped anyways, he figures. He'd given up on putting his foot down with Shuri ages ago, anyways.

 

“OK.” he agrees, pushing her gently to a more agreeable distance. "Let's begin."

 

Bucky shows her the steps, one hand placed safely on her shoulder, the other entwined with her own, leading her forward.

It’s a simple enough dance. One step. Two step. Forwards. Then back again.

She copies his movements with ease. She’s a natural, but that doesn’t even surprise him. There’s very little she can’t do, and she knows it, too.

 

Shuri meets his eyes, her unique strand of confidence written all over her face, now.

 

“Hmm. This is _easy_ , White Wolf.” she whispers with a grin.

 

Spoken too soon, it turns out. Because just moments later, she missteps and lurches forward.

 

Looking back, he doesn’t he doesn’t know if it was a genuine mistake or not.

All he knows is that suddenly he’s got his arm firmly gripping her waist to hold her steady, the full breadth of her delicate frame pressed against his own, their faces just a breath apart.

 

They’ve never been so close. His heart is hammering out of his chest at the sight of her so damn _near_ to him.

 

He can see her swallow nervously, too, her previous playfulness dissipated by their sudden, intimate proximity. But she doesn’t push him away, like he’d hoped. No, instead, he _swears_ she moves in closer.

 

That’s dangerous. She should know better. _He_ should know better.

 

But he can’t focus on that, not when he can see _all_ of her in his arms now, achingly tender and _heartbreakingly_ beautiful.

 

Her eyes slip closed, she leans in, and suddenly she’s so close he can practically _taste_ her…

 

And of course, at just that moment, a palace assistant bangs through the door.

 

They jump apart.

 

The assistant who’d walked in doesn’t seem to have noticed anything unusual. 

Bucky knows he didn’t do anything wrong — _though you came a bit too damn close_ , his brain reminds him —but he hopes that he’s right and the man didn’t see them. Or the sudden red in his cheeks and hers.

If he **had** — well, Bucky doesn’t imagine he’ll be in Wakanda much longer. Perhaps for the better.

 

His thoughts are interrupted by the assistant’s announcement.

 

“Princess. Your presence is requested by the King. It's to do with the nanotech update.”

 

Shuri frowns and nods. “I’ll be right there.”

 

“Some other time, White Wolf.” Her face has reassembled itself into a prim, proper expression. It’s an expression he knows well by now — one fit for royalty.

 

He’s a bit disappointed at how quickly she shifts gears, yes, but mostly he's relieved. It's easier, this way.

 

“Of course, your highness.” he agrees.

 

She nods at him briefly and sweeps out of the room with the assistant.

 

The minute the door closes, Bucky lets out a staggering breath he hadn’t even realized he’d held in.

Coming onto the princess like that. What was he _thinking_?

She deserves better. It’s just a fact. He _knows_ that.

 

And yet… a part of his brain insists that the way she’d looked at him when she was in his arms wasn’t entirely made up. That there was _something_ there. Something that had been _real_.

 

He shakes his head.

This is all too confusing and complicated.

He chooses, instead, to wipe it from his memory for the time being.

 

The way he sees it -- it’s probably better for _everyone_ that way. 

 

So for once in his life, he closes his eyes -- and does his best to _forget_.


	3. a life well lived

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queen Shuri catches her husband worrying about something silly. Random fluff. Sweet.

Bucky’s not really one for vanity.

 

In the aftermath of his time as Winter Soldier, he had spent as much time as possible trying to _blend in_ , rather than stand out. Even once he came to Wakanda, he never seemed to care for appearances much more than needed, preferring to keep it simple, and on special occasions, just let the royal assistants do their thing.

 

Which is why Shuri finds herself surprised to walk in on him, standing in front of the floor-length mirror in their bedroom with a deep frown on his face.

 

He’s so engrossed in thought that he doesn’t even notice her enter the room until he sees her reflection on the mirror in front of him.

 

He tries to quickly wipe away his frown, but Shuri’s faster than he is. She draws close and hugs him around the waist, squeezes him in a comforting motion before he can even protest that everything’s alright.

 

And so he acquiesces, returning her embrace gently before meeting her eyes with a lopsided, apologetic smile.

 

He turns to face her fully now, back turned to the mirror. Shuri takes his hands in her own, before she asks:

 

“Dearest, what’s wrong?”

 

He sighs, and she can see him visibly deflate a little.

 

“It’s silly, darling, really.”

 

“No, it isn’t.” she interjects, before he tries to dismiss it and change the topic. “If something’s on your mind, love, I want to know.”

 

Sighing again, he draws his hands from hers for a moment and motions at something on his face.

 

And that’s when she sees it. Something, she certainly hadn’t noticed before.

 

At the place he motioned, there’s a small patch of gray hairs in his beard.

 

 

In an _instant_ , she gets it. And her heart breaks a little for him.

 

“Oh.” she murmurs softly. “ _Love_.”

 

He shakes his head wistfully. Takes her hands in his again, like she’s his anchor, amidst the thoughts she can practically _see_ swirling in his head.

 

“It’s just so _strange_ … after so many years in and out of ice, it seems like my age is starting to catch up with me. The serum finally seems to be losing its strength.”

 

He’s probably right, she knows. He’d only ever been sporadically taken off ice during his time as the Winter Soldier. No one really knew the full extent of the serum he’d been given, but clearly, it wasn’t as infallible as they’d once assumed.

 

She’d had her suspicions, for a while now, about when the serum might start to lose its edge.

 

But she’d never mentioned it to him, because she knew it would never matter to her, and she _never_ wanted to see it worry him. As it was, right now.

 

Her thoughts are broken by his voice as he continues.

 

“All those people who said I was too old for you… it seems they were right about _something_.”

 

_No!_

 

“No, _no_.” she mutters, out loud this time, and then she’s cupping his handsome face in her hands, as gently but firmly as she’s able, forcing him to _look_ at her, to meet her eyes.

 

“Darling, those gray hairs don’t mean a loss of life. Not at all.”

 

“It just means a life _well lived_. A _full_ one.”

 

She pauses, watches her words sink in, before she continues.

 

“It hasn’t been perfect. It hasn’t been easy. But my love — it’s all been _worth it_. And I’m so happy to have spent so much of it with you.”

 

Which was true. Their journey had been rife with struggle — facing down divisions of class, culture, age and race.

 

Hell, for a long time, it had seemed like they could _never_ be together.

 

There had been countless lonely nights that she'd cried herself to sleep. Heartbroken, because she'd been commanded to forget him.

 

Heartbroken, because she'd had a taste of a love that she _never_ wanted to give up.

 

And yet — somehow, against all odds, they had endured. **That's** what mattered.

 

She keeps going.

 

“People can talk, but I know that _nothing_ else could ever compare. You’ve always had me — _all_ of me.”

 

Shuri can **see** the emotion in his eyes. Knows, in that instant, that she’s finally reached him.

 

“And you have all of me.” He whispers it, like it’s a secret, a promise he’s bound to keep.

 

“Thank you, my darling.”

 

She gives him a small smile. Hopes it isn't watery, though it probably is. But she can't find it in herself to care.

 

Shuri loves her husband, gray hairs and all. And he _knows_ it, all else be damned.

 

“Of _course_.” she whispers back.

 

Shuri can’t help the lilting, flirty tone that returns to her voice with her next words —

 

“And, well, for what it’s worth —I think you look even _more_ handsome, husband.”

 

He finally smiles at that — a **real** smile, one that lights up his whole face and puts little crinkles at the corners of his eyes that she _adores_ — and she’s reminded, instantly, of just why she loves him so _damn_ much.

 

After everything he’s gone through — all the horrors he’d faced, all the suffering he’d had — he’d become _hers_. He’d shown her joy she could never have imagined, love she could have never expected.

 

He had made her the happiest girl alive, and then some.

 

She could probably wax poetic about it for days, if she were allowed.

 

But that’s too long. So she settles for a shorter, simpler solution.

 

“Come _here,_ ” she laughs, and then she’s locking her arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss that’s soft and gentle and _familiar_ in all the right ways she's come to love.

 

He meets her halfway, lets his arms wrap around her waist and pull her in _closer_.

 

Kisses her, until she's breathless and _has_ to pull back, blushing like some lovestruck teenager. _Damn_ him.

 

Still, Shuri recovers fast. Tries to keep her flimsy upper hand with a well-placed tease.

 

“Does that settle it? Do you get it now, _Ingucka_?” she purrs.

 

He laughs, deep and low.

 

“No, no. I think I could use a little _more_ explanation, your highness,” he replies, his usual confident, handsome grin already making its way back across his face.

 

“ _Mmm_. Let's fix that, shall we? ” she murmurs before pulling him close again.

 

And as their lips meet again, she can feel him smiling into their kiss, and she can't help smiling, too. 

 

Because whatever anyone says— theirs is a life well lived, indeed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment! I love those. I'm [@wakandawinterprincess](wakandawinterprincess.tumblr.com) on tumblr if ya wanna hang, it's a party!


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